


hear your voice in every sound

by aerialbots



Series: narrative causality [1]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Hurts (UK Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialbots/pseuds/aerialbots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a really weird thought to be having about a dead guy who refuses to leave him alone -- even if the guy seems impervious to anything regarding the concepts of normalcy, personal space, and which foods it is acceptable to put ketchup into."</p>
            </blockquote>





	hear your voice in every sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bambithepenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bambithepenguin/gifts).



The little pinpricks of energy on his side are the only warning Alex receives that, for at least another morning, his life continues to be the bloody weirdest.

"It's too early for your bullshit", he groans into his pillow, too tired to be alarmed by the fact that the complaint is starting to sound less like annoyance and closer to something not unlike fondness.

"Sure it is. You do realise Miles thinks you're starting to go crazy, though, right?", Theo says, disgustingly cheerful for eight a.m. on a Sunday.

Then again, it figures Theo would be the kind of person to ignore the very principle of eternal sleep.

"And whose fault is _that_?", Alex shoots back, turning his face from the safety of his pillow to scowl at the blur of intent and memory that is currently lying on his bed, an elbow propped on the covers and his head resting on his hand in some bizarre version of the universal morning-after pose.

...which is, in hindsight, a really weird thought to be having about a dead guy who refuses to leave him alone -- even if the guy seems impervious to concepts such as normalcy, personal space, and which foods it is acceptable to put ketchup into.

"Well, yours", Theo says, the very picture of innocence, were it not for the smirk he's struggling to keep from creeping onto his face -- and which breaks into a shameless grin at Alex's responding flat look. "I did tell you learning sign language would have been easier."

"Yes, because signing angrily at seemingly empty spaces would be _so much less alarming_ than talking to myself."

"I resent that adverb", Theo sniffs, shifting to rest his chin on Alex's folded arm, goosebumps breaking across his skin in wake of the contact. “Sign adoringly, maybe, but _angrily_?”

He can feel his arm slowly going numb, just a little, just as much as Theo’s form is slowly getting a little more solid, if not quite tangible. They’ve experimented a bit with it already, just in case, and even though Alex knows it won't hurt him on the long run, the loss of sensation still feels unnerving, discomforting in a myriad of quiet ways, and yet--

"That's the least of all the adverbs you deserve", Alex murmurs, but rolls onto his side, and if Theo's face turns into a smile softer than he can quantify, for all that it is fleeting, it's lost in the flurry of motion involved in curling against the lithe line of Alex's ribcage, just low enough for Theo to press his ear against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It is a small price to pay, Alex tells himself, already dozing off once more, for the sake of getting a little more sleep.


End file.
